


To My Dear Host...

by Doctor_Discord



Series: The Ego Manor [32]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Blood, Creepy, Hemophilia, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Medical Procedures, Panic, Poisoning, Prophetic Visions, Stalker, The Host has a Stalker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 11:11:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17405855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doctor_Discord/pseuds/Doctor_Discord
Summary: The Host has one of the most - if not THE most - popular radio shows in the Ego Realm. Of course he has fans. But with those fans come the obsessive ones, the ones that would do anything to call their 'celebrity crush' their own. And the Host suddenly finds himself in grave danger.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love this story I love this story I love this story I love this story I LOVE THIS STORY

As someone who worked in the media, the Host _knew_ he had fans. He was just…always surprised and delighted when he was reminded of that fact. To keep himself grounded as well as get input on how he could improve his radio show, the Host had created a forum, and on a select few days of the month, instead of his usual show, he spent his time scrolling through the forum, answering questions live on the air and getting tips on things that were good and things that were not so good, and just generally having a fun time chatting with those who were genuine fans of his show.

And that was exactly what he was doing that morning, forcing his Sight to activate in order to guide him through the website. He selected a random comment, clicking on the icon that read the text aloud for him so he could avoid causing himself damage by forcing his Sight for so long.

_"Why do you speak in third person?”_

The Host hummed, genuinely perplexed. “The Host is incapable of speaking any other way. He is…unsure as to why.”

Shaking off the existentialism-provoking question, the Host continued to browse through the forum. He clicked another one randomly, not really looking at it before the computer began to read.

_"I’ve been listening to your show every morning for over two years now and I just have to say your voice is one of the sexiest things I’ve ever heard! Anyway, my question is – would you ever consider going on a date with a fan?”_

The Host laughed awkwardly, blushing bright. “While the Host is flattered, he must inform –” He checked the username. “– Sam139 that he has been in a committed, happy relationship for just over four years, with no intention of ever splitting with his beloved.”

The Host smiled at the influx of comments that were variations of _‘That’s so cute!’_ and _‘I’m happy for you!’_ He continued on with his show, shoving the comment to the back of his mind, and ignoring the bad feeling prickling just behind his sockets.

* * *

When the Host went to get his bandages changed later that morning, he found a disgruntled Dr. Iplier with a short temper. Surprised by the foul mood, the Host kept his mouth shut, doing everything his doctor asked and waiting for him to tell what was bothering him.

Finally, he got what he was waiting for as Dr. Iplier was picking at the knot in his bandages. “I was listening to your show this morning.”

The Host hummed, smiling a little as the other drew away to get rid of the soiled cloth. “So then Dr. Iplier heard the rather interesting question the Host received.”

“Yes.”

The Host laughed at Dr. Iplier’s short reply, a few things clicking in his mind. “Is Dr. Iplier jealous?” He caught Dr. Iplier’s hand, laughter in his voice and his Sight flashing just in time to see the other blush bright red.

“No! Well, maybe. A little. Yes.” Dr. Iplier’s blush deepened as he pulled his hand away from the Host’s in order to redress his sockets.

The Host hummed again, grinning broader, and once Dr. Iplier was done he stood, pulling the other into a lingering kiss. “The Host _assures_ Dr. Iplier,” he whispered, pressing their foreheads together, “that he has nothing to be jealous of. It was a question from a fan with a crush, nothing more. Plus,” he added, tapping Dr. Iplier on the nose. “Had Dr. Iplier not turned the radio off just after this question was asked, he would have heard the Host shut them down, telling them he is already in a loving relationship with no intention of ending it.”

Dr. Iplier grumbled something under his breath, something that sounded suspiciously like ‘fucking _visions_ ,’ before he shoved the Host away, crossing his arms. “Fine, yes, I was being stupid, I know, but…” He sighed, finally relenting and shyly reaching for the Host’s hand. “The affirmation that it meant nothing is still reassuring.” Suddenly he laughed, forehead thumping against the Host’s chest. “I can just _imagine_ how red you must’ve been when you heard that! You weren’t even paying attention to what you were selecting, were you?”

The Host blushed, rubbing the back of his head. “The Host admits, he could have been a bit more tactful and attentive when it came to picking out the comments. He promises to be more so in the future.” He placed another kiss to the top of Dr. Iplier’s head, smiling against his hair. “Though he must say…the Host finds his doctor’s jealousy both amusing and endearing.”

Dr. Iplier snorted, pushing him away again. “Shut up! And get out of here, I have shit to do!”

The Host chuckled as moved towards the door, hands in his pockets. “The Host sends his love!”

Dr. Iplier muttered several swears under his breath. “I love you, too!”


	2. Chapter 2

It was the next morning, when all the egos were gathered for breakfast, when the Host really started to grow alarmed.

“Hey Host, these came for you.” The Host sat straighter in his chair as Bim placed the – his surprised narrations told him it was a flower arrangement – in front of him.

“What the Hell?” He turned to Dr. Iplier, lips parted slightly in surprise as he fingered the card that came with the arrangement, running his finger over his own name written in painstaking calligraphy.

Dr. Iplier huffed, crossing his arms. “Not from me.”

The Host’s panic spiked, and he picked up the card, holding it between two fingers. “The Host commands that someone reads this, and that his suspicions are proven false.”

Dark warily took the card from him, all eyes on him with the Host’s head tilted toward him, a worried frown on the blind ego’s face. “’To my dear Host. A beautiful gift for a beautiful voice.’”

“Well that’s creepy.” The Host ignored Bim’s comment, gesturing for Dark to continue.

“What’s it signed?”

Dark squinted at the card. “Sam.”

“ _Shit_.” The Host visibly grew more distressed, shoving the arrangement away and breathing harshly.

“Wh-what is it?” The Host tilted his head in Eric’s direction, blindly reaching out for Dr. Iplier and calming slightly when their fingers interlaced.

He took a deep breath. “Yesterday, the Host received a comment asking if he would ever go on a date with a fan. Apparently, ‘Sam’ doesn’t know how to take ‘no’ for an answer.”

“Even _more_ creepy!”

“What about the obvious security breach?” Google leaned forward, eyes flashing with as close to panic as the android could feel.

“Yeah dude,” Bing continued. “No offence, but you like, never leave the manor. How’d they even find where you live?”

“ _He_ may not, but _we_ leave all the time.” King fidgeting nervously with his hands. “We all look nearly identical. It wouldn’t take much to figure out that we all live together and then just follow one of us home…” He shuddered, curling in on himself.

If the egos weren’t on edge before, they definitely were now. Dark turned to Google. “Station your extensions outside, monitor everything and everyone that comes within a hundred foot radius of the property.” Google nodded, eyes shifting between glowing red, green, and yellow as Dark continued to speak. “To everyone else, business as usual. There’s nothing more we really _can_ do, not yet.”

At some point, from the sheer stress of the situation, the Host had begun to bleed, smearing his cheeks with red as he gripped Dr. Iplier’s hand in an iron hold, body trembling. Dr. Iplier squeezed his hand. “You still have to do your show, right? Do you want me to sit in there with you today? Promise I won’t make a sound.”

The Host nodded shakily, breathing still ragged. “Please.”

His beloved smiled at him, pulling him out of his chair and leading him towards his studio – none of them really had appetites anymore with what was now going one. The Host settled into his chair, visibly relaxing as he quickly moved through his routine, Dr. Iplier sitting quietly beside him as he worked. Finally, he pressed the _LIVE_ button and began to talk, smoothly making his way through his usual introduction and betraying none of his distress before he took a deep breath, diving into an apology.

“The Host apologizes for the delay in today’s broadcast. He had…an emergency to attend to.” Dr. Iplier squeezed his hand, and he reciprocated. “In regards to that emergency, the Host must send a warning to the user that goes by Sam139 on his forum. As previously stated, he has no intention of pursuing or reciprocating their affections, nor does intend to fan them.” Suddenly he grinned. “In other news, the Host has a very special show lined up for today. He has his beloved here in the studio.” Dr. Iplier’s eyes shot wide, and the Host chuckled into the mic, leaning over to turn on the second one.

“I hate you.” Those were the first words Dr, Iplier said into the mic.

The Host laughed. “The Host knows for a fact that Dr. Iplier’s words are false. He has told the Host on multiple occasions that he loves him. Like this morning. And last night. And –”

Dr. Iplier placed a hand on his face, shoving his head away from the mic as the Host laughed again, clearly delighting in the other’s embarrassment. “Fine! Yes, shut up!” His face split in a sly grin. “Though, if we’re gonna be spending this whole time embarrassing each other, _man_ have I got a few storied to tell. Like that _whole year_ before you managed to ask me out were you just turned _so_ red whenever I so much as glanced at you.”

The Host blushed, but he too sported a devious grin. “If that’s how Dr. Iplier wants to play this, then the Host can share the story of when Dr. Iplier was so sleep deprived he spilled his entire mug of coffee down his front instead of bringing it to his lips. In front of the _whole house_ no less.”

Dr. Iplier crossed his arms, flushing bright red. “Hey. Sleep deprivation does some pretty jacked shit to your brain! I’m a doctor, I know!”

The Host hummed, propping his chin up on his fist. “Is Dr. Iplier’s profession a demonstration of knowledge or an example?”

Dr. Iplier slapped his shoulder, the Host laughing all the while, and the two continued on with the show. They spent the whole time sharing embarrassing and hilarious stories of the egos – mainly each other, but a few of the others were pulled in as well. By the time it was over, they were both completely breathless with laughter, stomachs hurting and having completely forgotten what had happened that morning. After the Host had signed off, the two simply sat there, still giggling to themselves, the Host idly picking at the dried blood caked to his skin just below his bandages.

He heard Dr. Iplier roll forward in the chair, moving closer to the desk. “Oh my God.”

The Host frowned, moving closer as well. “What is it?”

“Your forum, it’s…it’s going nuts! The person, Sam, they’re completely spamming it!” The Host forced his Sight just long enough to glimpse the rapidly scrolling line of text moving across the screen. In his peripherals, he saw Dr. Iplier wince. “It’s…it’s a lot of death threats. Some at you…mainly at me…”

The Host slid closer, wrapping an arm around Dr. Iplier’s shoulders and placing a kiss on his cheek. “The Host will _not_ allow anyone to hurt his beloved. Not again.” His other arm wrapped around his chest, burying his face in the spot where Dr. Iplier’s neck met his shoulder. “Dr. Iplier will be safe.”

“What about _you_ though?” Dr. Iplier pulled back, forcing the Host to face him. “It’s _you_ they really want. I want you to be safe, too.”

“The Host has the protection of his words and the manor. Dr. Iplier, however, has a job at the hospital that he must attend to and has neither.”

Dr. Iplier made a distressed noise, pressing their foreheads together. “I’ll get Silver to come with me to the hospital. And Henrik – Schneep – will be there, too. I will be fine.” He cupped the Host’s face in his hands, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs. He let out a sigh. “Come on. Let me clean you up before I have to go.”

The Host let Dr. Iplier lead him away, anxiety churning in his gut, and just barely holding back the visions that suddenly threatened to split his skull.


	3. Chapter 3

The Host slammed the door of the library, stumbling his way towards his desk with slurred narration, one hand covering his new, already-soaked bandages and the other trailing bloodied fingers over the spines of his books. He didn’t even make it to his desk before his legs gave out, sending him collapsing to the floor. He pressed his forehead to the cold stone, knees curled underneath him and both hands now pressed to his sockets, gasping harshly.

 _He was lying in the hospital bed in Dr. Iplier’s office, agony gripping him from all fronts as he writhed, desperately trying to speak but he couldn’t, couldn’t_ breathe _as he gripped the sheets in a vice, blood creeping from his sockets, his nose, his mouth –_

The vision changed, and the Host’s breath hitched.

_He was peering through a window, into the manor, watching and waiting for the one he wanted to appear. He could hear the others talking, muffled by glass and distance, could see them running about the kitchen. The pink one was standing by the stove, flipping pancakes in a pan, the dark one standing behind him with his head on his shoulder and his arms around his waist. He rolled his eyes, but visibly perked up when the one he was waiting for wandered into the scene, easily recognizable by that beautiful, rumbling voice. He scowled at the sight of him hand-in-hand with another, a doctor, it looked like, but ignored it for now, letting his eyes settle on his face for the first time. He startled back, squinting at the bandages wrapped around his eyes._

_He didn’t know the Host was blind._

The Host jerked back to the present, fear chilling him to the bone as blood dripped through his fingers, attempting to calm his ragged breathing. What he just Saw…that had been _this morning_. Someone had been _watching_ them, watching _him_. He gasped out a sob, staggering to his feet and tearing his bandages off – they weren’t doing much for him anyways. Finally climbing into his chair, he tilted his head forward, allowing the blood to drain freely from between his fingers. He allowed his aura to weave around him, words dripping like ink in the air as he dug frantically through his drawers for the spare clotting agent shot Dr. Iplier had given him to store away for emergencies. Wrapping his slick, bloodied hand around the syringe, he jabbed it into his own neck just as he let his aura flare, roaming the manor and searching for a particular energy.

He sighed in relief as the blood flow began to slow, hesitantly removing his blood-soaked hand from his face and exposing his sockets to the open air just as he latched onto that energy. He flared his aura once more before withdrawing, removing the empty syringe from his neck and wiping his bloody hands off on his shirt before reaching back into the drawer.

He felt before he heard Dark’s arrival, the thick scent of ozone permeating the air as the hole in the Void appeared, the demon emerging from it. “Host? Is something wrong, did – _oh_.” Shaky narrations brought him a picture of Dark taking a hesitant step forward. “Do you…need help?”

“No. The Host can take care of himself.” To emphasize his point, he pulled out a roll of bandages and a bloodstained cloth from the drawer. “Besides, the Host’s bleeding is not why he called Darkiplier down here.”

Dark swallowed. Seeing the Host’s empty sockets unnerved _everyone_ , even the all-powerful demon. Well, everyone except Dr. Iplier, though he supposed the doctor had just gotten used to the sight. “What did you need then?”

“The Host had a vision.” He bared his teeth, picking up the cloth and beginning to wipe away the blood staining his face. “They were _here_. Whoever is tormenting the Host, they were _here_ this morning, watching the egos settle for breakfast through a window. They may still be here.”

He felt Dark’s aura whip around him, felt the crackling, chaotic energy as he set the dripping cloth back on his desk. “The Googles – and Bing – are still stationed outside as security. I’ll ask them to do a thorough sweep.” He narrowed his eyes, squinting at the Host suspiciously. “Normally you don’t bleed _this_ much just from a simple vision like that. What else did you See?”

The Host stiffened, fingers pausing in their work of tying his bandages’ knot around the back of his head. “Whatever else the Host may or may not have Seen is none of Darkiplier’s business.” He shuddered, the phantom pain of injuries he’d yet to sustain ghosting over him. “The Host asks Darkiplier to leave now.”

“Actually, what you Saw is _exactly_ my business.” Dark placed a hand on his shoulder. “Does someone get hurt? Do _you_? You need to tell me so I can _prevent_ it.”

“And that is exactly why the Host _can’t_ tell.” He stood, blood still glistening on his face in spots he had missed. “The more Darkiplier tries to meddle with the future, the faster he will bring it upon himself, most likely at his own hand at that.” The Host clasped his hands behind his back, gracefully stepping around Dark and moving with practiced, memorized ease through the maze he called his library. “The Host will be in his room should Darkiplier wish to speak to him. _Not_ about his visions.”

He heard Dark huff, aura crackling. “Fine. Oh! Dr. Iplier called. He said that Dr. Schneeplestein roped him into the graveyard shift at the hospital, and that Silver’s refused to leave his side.”

The Host paused, allowing himself a relieved smile, though the fact that his beloved doctor wouldn’t be home till _much_ later bothered him immensely. He didn’t give Dark a reply, just continued to his room. He sat on his bed, running one hand over the blankets before falling back, laying sideways across his bed. He took a deep breath, and suddenly all of the stress and fear and anxiety of his situation washed over him in their full, suffocating him and blindsiding him completely. He let out a sob, and found that he couldn’t stop, tears mixing with the blood already staining his face.

The Host laid there, hands covering his face with tears slipping between his fingers, and cried.


	4. Chapter 4

The Host shook as he approached his room, closing the door gently behind him. He’d just come back from dinner, and he’d spent the entire time fidgety and paranoid, despite Google and Bing and his own fervently muttered narrations telling him that no one was there, that no one was watching him. In the end, he didn’t eat anything, just picked at his plate. It didn’t help that Dr. Iplier’s absence felt like a hot metal rod imbedded in his chest and in his head, further winding him up and keeping him on edge. Now, as he slowly stripped of his coat and clothes to change into his pajamas…now he just felt _exhausted_.

With a long sigh, he climbed into bed, burrowing into the covers and curling into a ball beneath them. His beloved didn’t work the graveyard shift often, but whenever he did the Host always felt…cold without him. Making a slight whimpering noise and curling tighter in on himself, he ducked his head under the covers, too.

He faded in an out of sleep, more of a light doze than true rest, for what must’ve been hours, because he was jostled into sleepy, half-awareness by someone climbing into the bed with him. Immediately relaxing, he pulled the other tight to his chest, making a muffled noise of contentment. He drifted back off to sleep, deeper this time, and mumbling slurred, unintelligible words into the other’s skin as he buried his face into the spot where neck met shoulder.

He was woken up again much later into the night by someone climbing into bed – again. He shifted beneath the covers, grumbling under his breath. The ‘stealthy’ movements stopped short. “God – _fuck_ – sorry! I was trying not to wake you up.”

The Host laughed sleepily, pulling Dr. Iplier down into the covers and curling around him, entangling their legs and holding him close to his chest. “Mmm…where did Dr. Iplier go,” he slurred, smiling against his hair.

His smile fell, however, when he felt Dr. Iplier shift, confusion radiating off him. “…What do you mean? I just got here, I was working, remember?”

The Host’s brow furrowed, and then he shot upright in the bed, scrambling to press his back against the headboard and tearing at his hair, breath coming in rapid gasps. Dr. Iplier nearly fell out of the bed, bolting upright, too. “Whoa! What, what’s wrong, what happened?! Host?!”

“Someone was _here!_ ” His voice cracked, raw with distress. “Someone was _here_ , in bed, with the Host! He was so tired a-a-and he was fading in and out of sleep, he assumed it was late enough for Dr. Iplier to be coming home and he-he-he didn’t think twice and –” He choked, so caught up in his own panicked meltdown he didn’t notice the blood streaming down his face, nor Dr. Iplier gripping his shoulders, attempting to pull him out of it as the Host drew his knees up to his chest, rocking slightly with his hands fisted tightly in his hair.

“Host! Host, calm down, it’s okay! They’re not here anymore, and I’m right here!” Dr. Iplier pressed a kiss to his forehead, wrapping his arms around the Host and pulling him into a grounding hug. The Host gripped him back just as tightly, his harsh gasps devolving into hyperventilation.

Dr. Iplier pulled back, his own panic tight in every movement he made. He gently removed the Host’s hands from his hair, taking them in his own instead. “Host, you’re hyperventilating! Come on, you have to calm down! Alright, focus on me, okay? Breathe with me, come on.”

Following Dr. Iplier’s commands, the Host did his best to match the other’s breathing, gradually calming down to the point where he was just sobbing brokenly, face buried between his knees. Dr. Iplier ran a soothing hand through his hair, the Host gripping tightly to his sleeve. “I’m gonna go wake Google. Get them to do a full sweep of the house. They may still be here, and if they are, we’ll find them.” He placed a lingering kiss to the top of the Host’s head and moved to slide off the bed, but the Host’s grip on his sleeve tightened, his head shooting up.

“No! No no no no no, don’t leave, don’t leave the Host alone, he – he’ll come with Dr. Iplier, just _please_ –”

Dr. Iplier took his hands in his own, prying the Host’s fingers away from his sleeve. “It’s okay, I won’t leave you, I promise! Of course you can come, just – come on.” He pulled the shaking Host from the bed, the blind ego immediately clinging to his arm like a lifeline as they made their way towards Google’s room.

The door slid open, and both immediately panicked when the android was nowhere to be found.

“ _Shit_ – Goddammit, this is no time for Google to suddenly be changing his habits!” Dr. Iplier moved further down the hall, the Host growing more hysterical by the second, toward Bing’s door. He slid the door open, then banged harshly on the wall. “ _Google!_ Get up, we have an emergency!”

“ _Hnn_ – !” Bing’s eyes shot open and the younger android fell out of the bed, getting tangled in his own charging cord and letting out a tired, annoyed groan from his spot on the floor, making no move to get back up. Google himself shot upright, eyes flickering for a brief moment as he pulled abruptly into the world of the awake, hair sticking up and logo dim. He narrowed his eyes at the sight of the two of them, pulling his glasses out of a storage compartment where his sternum would’ve been were he human.

“What?! What is it, what could you two _possibly_ need at this hour?!”

Dr. Iplier shot him a glare. “The Host’s stalker is _in the house_. They were just _in his room_ , _in his bed_. If they’re still here, fucking _find them_.”

Google’s eyes shot wide before his expression twisted into a scowl, growling low in his throat. “On it. Wake Dark. He needs to know about this.” He was out of bed in a flash, shoving past the two of them, presumably to go wake his three extensions and start the search.

The Host’s mind was a whirlwind of sound and sense as Dr. Iplier lead him away from the androids’ room. His breathing began to pick up pace again, the black expanse of _nothing_ he was so very used to after five years feeling _suffocating_ to him in this moment. He stopped in the middle of the hall, hands jerking from Dr. Iplier’s arm to his own face, digging his nails into the sensitive flesh around his sockets and _desperately_ trying to pull himself out of this _black pit_ he found himself in.

“Oh God oh God – Host! Host, you need to listen to me! Stop – you’re hurting yourself! Please stop, _please –_ ”

“The Host just wants it to _stop_.” He gasped out a sob, dropping down to the floor with his nails still imbedded in his own skin, blood running in tiny rivulets from the small wounds. “He wants it to _end_ , please, _please_ just let it _end_ –”

“Will work it out, Host! You know we will, we always do!” Dr. Iplier guided him back upright, pulling his hands away from his face and firmly gripping onto them with his own, this time _refusing_ to let go. “You have to trust me, Host! You have to trust _us_! We won’t let anything happen to you, you know that!”

The Host’s mind flashed back to the vision he had earlier, shuddering violently at the vague memory of _agony_ overtaking him. Despite this, he let himself relax at last, slumping in Dr. Iplier’s arms. “The Host trusts Dr. Iplier. Always.”

Dr. Iplier’s face split in a relieved grin. “Good! And I trust you. So come on. We have a demon to wake up.”

The Host let out a small, hoarse laugh. “Fun.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Anything?”

Google shook his head as he closed the meeting room door, moving toward his seat at the table. “Nothing. Whoever this is, they don’t leave a _fucking_ trace,” he ground out, clearly frustrated.

Dark slammed a fist on the table. “ _Dammit!_ ” He glanced at the Host. The blind ego was facing straight ahead, expression completely impassive, but if one looked close enough you could see _just_ how shaken he was as he gripped Dr. Iplier’s hand, their chairs pressed completely together.

“So what do we do now then? We can’t just let this…this _psycho fan_ continue running loose!” Wilford chucked a knife in sheer frustration at the wall, Dark not even flinching as it whizzed past his ear.

“Calm down, Wil. Throwing knives won’t help anything,” he deadpanned. The other huffed, crossing his arms and throwing one leg over the other.

“He’s right, though!” Reynolds gestured to Eric. “I know we haven’t been here long, but this feels _wrong_. There has to be _something_ we can do!”

“Google, have you tried hacking their account on the Host’s forum? See where they live, I dunno, however tech stuff works?”

Google slowly turned to face Silver. “That was one of the first things we tried. _Still_ brought us _nothing_.”

“What about the Host himself? Has he tried usin’ his fancy words to catch them or pin them down somewhere?”

Dr. Iplier shook his head at Ed, glancing at the Host beside him with pure concern. “He hasn’t spoken a word since just before we woke Dark up. I-i-it’s like he’s shut down. He’s…he’s _terrified_.”

“Great!” Bim leaned back in his chair. “If the Host is so freaked out over this that he’s literally gone into shut down mode, then what the Hell are we supposed to do?” He swallowed, glancing sympathetically at the Host. “Don’t get me wrong, I feel his pain. Yandere scares the _shit_ out of me. But, frankly, we’re running blind here. We’ve got a stalker possibly _still in the house_ and the only person who has _any_ idea of what’s gonna happen next, according to Dark, refuses to tell. It’s a nightmare!”

Dark thumped his forehead against the table. He waved a hand in vague expression above him. “Any ideas? There’s fourteen of us, one of us _has_ to have _something_.”

“The Host suggests the egos do nothing.”

All eyes immediately shot the Host. He hadn’t moved, still facing the wall blankly, but bloody tears had begun to roll down his face. Dark shook his head, completely confused. “Host? What do you mean, we can’t do _nothing_ –”

Suddenly the Host snarled, whirling on Dark. “The Host _commands_ that the egos do _nothing_.” Seemingly realizing he’d done, he choked, letting out a single sob and returned to face the wall, blood dripping off his chin to ruin further his bloody pajamas. “It is as the Host told Darkiplier earlier today; the more the egos try to prevent the future, the faster it will come to pass. The Host…the Host _does_ know how this will end, at least…at least vaguely. He has made his peace with it, and wishes for the others to back down.”

Dr. Iplier stiffened beside him. “I _really_ don’t like the sound of that.” He squeezed his hand, looking for reassurance the Host gladly gave.

“The Host knows.” He rested his forehead on Dr. Iplier’s shoulder, letting go of his hand only to wrap his arms around him. “But there is no other way.”

Dark cleared his throat. “If you’re sure about this Host…” He himself sounded distinctly _un_ sure. “…then everyone go back to bed. I’ll…I’ll see you all in the morning.” He stood, clearly dismissing the others, and walked out the door, Wilford trailing after him.

Once the rest were gone, it was just the Host and Dr. Iplier alone in the meeting room. Neither of them had moved, the Host still wrapped tightly around Dr. Iplier and sobbing quietly into his shoulder. Dr. Iplier held him, whispering all of the reassuring, comforting things he could think of into the other’s ear, until the Host eventually passed out, the stress and fear shutting his body down.

With a sigh, Dr. Iplier lifting his beloved up into his arms and carried him back to bed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pay attention to the Host's visions (wink wink)

The next morning brought peaked tension and another gift.

The Host went rigid as something was set down in front of him, not daring to narrate it for himself. Instead, he tilted his head up to face King. “What is it?”

“It’s, um, i-it’s a box of chocolates. Really fancy ones, too, um…there’s another card as well.”

Somehow, the Host’s body stiffened further. “Read it to the Host. Please.”

King nervously scratched the back of his head. “I-I-I can’t. It’s…it’s written in Braille.”

The Host’s lips parted in surprise, taking the card from the skittish ego and laying it down in front of him. He didn’t get a chance to read it before Silver piped up. “Wait, you can read Braille? I didn’t know that!” The Host fixed him with a deadpan expression, one eyebrow raised as the hero worked out his own stupidity. Silver cleared his throat. “Right, that was stupid, carry on.”

Shaking his head, the Host ran his finger over the raised bumps on the card. Every hair on the back of his neck stood straight as he read.

_To my dear Host,_

_I didn’t know you were blind! I’m curious, but that can wait. You were so nice last night, curling around me like that. So warm, too. Of course, you probably thought I was that doctor. You could do so much better than him, you know. I can be so much better than him. What does he have that I don’t or can’t provide?_

_With love, Sam._

_P.S. Those robots are pretty worthless if they can’t find me. I can see them, but they can’t see me!_

Breathing picking up pace, he swallowed harshly, shoving the card away and wrapping his arms around himself, cinching his coat tighter. He gratefully leaned against Dr. Iplier when the doctor threw an arm around his shoulders, holding him close.

“What did it say?” Bing sounded high-strung, but then again, _everyone_ was tense.

The Host swallowed again. “They…th-they were gloating. Over being able to sneak around the manor. They were taunting the Googles –” Said android stiffened, growling lowly. “– and…a-and they were questioning why the Host was with Dr. Iplier and not them.” Suddenly he bolted upright, moving away from Dr. Iplier and sitting stiff and rigid in his chair, hands going to rest on the table. The feeling of eyes watching his every move grew stronger. “They said they can see the egos. _They’re here_.”

Every ego tensed. Google made to stand. “We’ll do another sweep.”

Dark stopped him. “No. That has done nothing in the past and I doubt it’ll do anything now. Besides…” His eyes slid to the Host. “The Host wishes us to do nothing, remember?”

Google let out another low growl, but shifted back into his seat, Bing resting a hand on his arm. Eric came around the table, passing out plates of what smelled like waffles, but the Host pushed his plate away, folding his hands in his lap with his head tilted downwards.

CJ shared a look with his brother, glancing over with concern. “…Host? You didn’t eat anything all day yesterday, are…are you okay?”

Dr. Iplier fixed him with an alarmed look, but the Host shrugged it off. “The Host is fine. He just…doesn’t have an appetite.”

“That’s not ‘fine’, Host.” Dr. Iplier nudged his arm. “Please? You need to eat _something_. You have to keep your strength up.”

The Host sighed, but obediently picked up his fork. He only managed to eat about half of a waffle before he pushed away from the table. “The Host will be in his library. Do not interrupt.” He pressed a quick kiss to Dr. Iplier’s cheek, trying for a reassuring smile but it just looked strained. Then he bolted, slamming the library door in his wake.

He let out another sigh as he collapsed into his chair, rummaging through his drawer for a quill and parchment. He let the visions wash over him, wishing to be anywhere _but_ the present, and praying that none of them would be too bad. He smiled, relaxing slightly as he got his wish; the first vision was one of Bing with a small kitten on his shoulder as he walked through the halls of the manor. The next was of King and Bim, holding hands and talking under a tree in the backyard. The visions flowed easily, and the Host documented them each with a small smile, laughing at the future antics he saw (he actually snorted, completely ruining his immersion, when he saw a vision of the Jims shrieking and falling all over the themselves trying to get away from a hysterically laughing Ed, who had just jumped around the corner to scare them).

He stopped after a while, forced to take a break by his dripping sockets and his rumbling stomach. Feeling more at ease than he had since this whole _shit show_ started, he moved back upstairs, gently closing the door behind him. As he passed the living area to head to the kitchen, his narrations told him Dark was sitting on the far love seat, reading a book with Wilford’s head in his lap, soft snores coming from the reporter.

Dark glanced up with a raised eyebrow. “You look better.”

The Host gave a small laugh, pausing in the entranceway to the kitchen to turn back to face the other. “Yes. The Host just needed some time to escape the present. He is feeling much more relaxed than before.” At that moment, his stomach rumbled again, and he flushed. “…He also _may_ regret his earlier aversion to eating.”

Dark offered him a small smile, going back to his book. “Good. I’m glad to hear it. Reynolds made Mac ‘n Cheese. There might still be some on the stove.”

The Host nodded, moving completely into the kitchen to rummage around in the cupboards for a bowl. “Bim,” he called out. “Do the egos still have any cinnamon cookies?”

Bim’s voice came echoing from somewhere deeper in the manor. “Host, you ate them all in the first week! But check the cupboard above the fridge! I might still have some in my own stash!”

The Host did exactly that, visibly delighting when he found the plastic container of cookies. He pulled it down, narrating with surprise when a piece of paper fell down with it. Idly biting into a cookie, he bent down to pick it, freezing when he felt the raised bumps. He stood straight, hurriedly running his thumb over the Braille lettering.

 _I_ _f I can’t have you, then no one can_.

He dropped both the cookie and the note, one hand flying to his throat as it began to close up. He choked, breath coming in labored wheezes as he stumbled to the kitchen entranceway, leaning heavily against the wall. “D…Darkiplier…” He couldn’t narrate, could barely talk at all, his head felt fuzzy – he took another fumbling step, body swaying where he stood. “Ssssomething’s wrong.” Blood began to drip from his sockets, he couldn’t _breathe_ , what was _happening_ –

The Host crashed to the floor, unconscious.


	7. Chapter 7

The Host woke in _agony_.

He immediately tried to scream, but found that he couldn’t make any sound at all – his throat had completely closed up, leaving him unable to breathe and unable to speak as he convulsed painfully, muscles seizing up. Panic immediately overtook him and his arms flailed wildly, desperately trying to grab onto anything _real_.

Someone grabbed onto his hand and he gripped it like a lifeline, though his strength was rapidly fading, he couldn’t _breathe_ – “Oh Jesus – Host! Calm down for me, you need to calm down! Relax!”

Despite the desperate words of Dr. Iplier, the Host couldn’t calm. He was dying. He was positive he was dying as he convulsed yet again, blood pouring from his sockets, his nose, his mouth. His tongue felt swollen and heavy, he couldn’t _breathe_ , he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe…

Consciousness was fading around the edges. His head felt fuzzy and throbbed simultaneously. His hand was sliding from Dr. Iplier’s, his body was seizing –

Something was being shoved down his throat, rough and painful against the aggravated flesh but he found he didn’t care when _air_ was suddenly rocketing into his lungs and he choked, desperately trying to get more as his throat convulsed around the devise breathing for him, his free hand gripping the sheets below him in a vice. He felt a hand brush the hair from his forehead as his back arched in a violent twitch, blood pooling in his mouth and nose and sockets. “Host, you _have_ to relax! Let the ventilator breathe for you, come on!”

Slowly, with Dr. Iplier insistent encouragement, the Host relaxed enough to stop fighting the tube, head falling back on the pillows and sweating profusely. With the panic of nearly _suffocating_ over, the Host was suddenly _very_ aware of the sheer _agony_ coursing through the rest of his body and he tensed again, legs kicking out and desperately trying to make any form of sound. Dr. Iplier swore above him, voice fading as he moved away, letting go of his hand. “Right, you’re still in pain, still _fucking poisoned_ and I have no idea what to do! Okay!”

The Host arched, reaching out for the other blindly, his body spasming yet again. Dr. Iplier quickly darted back over, grabbing his hand again. “Shh, no, it’s okay! It’s okay, I’m right here, I-I-I’ll fix this, I promise!” He pressed a quick kiss to his forehead, running his other hand through his hair. He began muttering fervently under his breath, pulling away again but making sure to keep in contact with the Host. “Okay, _okay_ , I need to get the swelling down, need to get pain killers, need to _stop the bleeding_ , fucking _hemophilia_ –”

The Host winced as a needle pricked through the skin of his neck, the familiar sensation of the clotting agent being injected into his bloodstream oddly comforting in this scenario. Dr. Iplier continued to speak, completely frazzled. “Okay, swelling, need to get that down, I need to get that poison _out_ of you, where the _fuck_ is my –” There was the harsh sound of wheels, then another needle was being inserted into his arm – an IV. “That’s done, painkiller, _painkillers_ …”

He seized again, choking as he sobbed brokenly behind the tube, and Dr. Iplier placed a hand on his forehead briefly, shifting it down to cup his face. “I know, I know, I’m trying, just – hold on a moment, I’ll be right back, I swear!” He darted away, followed quickly by the sound of something crashing. “ _Shit!_ Hold on, it’s here somewhere, I _know_ it is – aha!”

The Host twitched when yet another needle pricked his other arm. Dr. Iplier sighed in relief, collapsing into the chair next him. “It’ll…it’ll kick in in a moment, just…bear with me, alright?” He ran a hand through the Host’s hair again, pushing the sweaty strands away from his bandages. “I should probably change your bandages, but I don’t want to risk jostling the tube. Your throat probably hurts enough as is. Sorry about that, but just…” He let out a low groan, and it transformed into a strained laugh. “I have _never_ …been more _terrified_ …in my _entire_ life.”

The Host reached for him, head feeling fuzzy and unfocused. Under normal circumstances, that sensation would make him panic, unable to narrate and unable to See and finding the black abyss suffocating. But right now, with painkillers beginning to set in with his body twitching, he just felt… _numb_. Dr. Iplier took his hand, pressing it to his forehead. “Oh! Um, we-we found your stalker. Well, King did. Scared the poor guy half to death. They were…” He trailed off, and the Host heard him swallow harshly. “They were hanging from a tree, near the backyard’s border. K-killed themselves. Google said they hadn’t been dead long. Probably poisoned the cookies, then hung themselves. Murder-suicide. Or at least an attempted one.”

The Host choked out another sob, blood gurgling from his mouth and still running from his sockets, when he convulsed again. Dr. Iplier began to pet his hair, squeezing his hand tight. “I know, I know, I’ll get that shit out of you soon, I just need the swelling to go down in your throat first.” He pressed his lips to the back of his hand, and the Host was surprised to feel the wetness on his cheeks. Dr. Iplier had been _crying_. Gently, he moved his hand, clumsily wiping away the other’s tears, and Dr. Iplier let out a broken laugh, covering his hand with his own. “Yeah, I just… _Jesus_ I am _so_ glad you’re okay. Or at least, you will be.”

His hand left the Host’s, and the blind ego jumped when he felt Dr. Iplier’s hands press tentatively to his throat. “Sorry! Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” He hummed, pressing lightly. “It’s definitely gone down, not as much as I need, but I need to get this poison out of you…okay, here we go…this is probably gonna hurt, but…”

Slowly, the tube was pulled from the Host’s mouth and he spasmed, fresh tears coming at the uncomfortable sensation. When it was free, the Host gasped in a wheezing breath, immediately turning over to the side of the bed in order to spit out the wad of half-congealed blood that had built up in his mouth, ripping off his bandages as blood instantly cascaded in a waterfall out of his sockets from where it had pooled and settled. He still couldn’t breathe right, breathing far too rapidly in order to get enough air to his lungs and Dr. Iplier rested a soothing hand on his back. “Okay, bear with me now, I’ll put the tube back in in a second but I need to activate your gag reflex. You have to throw up so just brace yourself. In three…two…one…”

Dr. Iplier was shoving his gloved fingers into the Host’s mouth and he gagged. Within seconds he was retching, throwing up violently into the bucket Dr. Iplier had prepared and sobbing in between. When he was done, he collapsed, going boneless on the bed and just _sobbed_ , sockets still dripping and body trembling. He felt Dr. Iplier wince. “That is…a _lot_ of blood. Hopefully that’s mostly from your sockets. Here, I have some water for you.”

The Host shook his head, not caring that he was sending blood flying everywhere. “No.” His voice was little more than an abused whisper. “No, it _hurts_.”

Dr. Iplier made a distressed noise. “I know, _God_ , I _know_ , but please, work with me here. Please?”

The Host whimpered, wheezing painfully, but allowed Dr. Iplier to bring the straw to his lips. He only managed a few swallows before he had to back off, choking slightly. Dr. Iplier rubbed his back, helping him get resituated on the bed. “Okay, there we go. That swelling should be gone in twenty-four hours, definitely by the day after that. Do you want me to put the tube back in?”

The Host didn’t even hesitate, nodding hurriedly as his hands instinctively came up to claw at his chest and throat. “Whoa! Hey now, that won’t help anything!” Dr. Iplier pinned his wrists to the bed. “In order to do this, you need to _relax_. You are going to be _fine_. The poison is – for the most part – out of your system, and what’s left you’ll sweat out. Just relax.”

The Host obeyed, unable to stop his trembling however. Dr. Iplier reinserted the tube, and the blind ego visibly relaxed further and allowed the machine to do its work, relief flooding through him as the agony that breathing currently was for him was taken out of his hands. “Okay…there we go…it’s all over now…it’s over…”

The Host held out his hand, and Dr. Iplier complied, holding his hand once more. The Host traced a shape – a heart – onto the inside of his beloved’s wrist with his thumb. Dr. Iplier laughed, pressing a kiss to the same spot on the Host’s hand.

“I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys don't UNDERSTAND just how much FUN this was to write! I love the Host, and this was beautiful! Oh, and do you remember his visions from last chapter? ;) ;) ;) Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this story, and I will see you Wednesday! I have some really fun stuff coming up, just you wait!


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